Gaining What is Lost
by Cherie-24-Addict
Summary: When Renee's drowning in a world of despair, Jack just happens to be in Washington, D.C. and sees her suffering.  Will he be able to save her, and then be there for her?  J/R, sequel to "Losing It: A Breakdown", although that story can be read on its own.
1. Chapter 1

August 18, 2010

**Gaining What is Lost**

"All right, Jack," Dr. Macer said as she looked at the results of the tests she'd run on her patient. Jack sat on the side of the hospital bed stoically, as if he was waiting to hear, not for the first time, that he was dying. In fact, he was so focused on remaining calm that he barely heard Dr. Macer say, "So call me when you get back to New York, okay?"

Jack blinked. "I'm sorry," he said, shifting a little as he tried to ignore the vibrations of his cell phone. "Could you repeat that?"

"The opportunistic infection you had last week appears to have cleared up, and your doctor at your treatment facility should be able to help you deal with any other problems that may come up. You're not completely out of the woods yet, but you're on your way."

"And this isn't going to come back?"

"You're a strong man, Jack," she said confidently. "I'm sure you'll be fine, but I'm always here if you need anything."

Jack mumbled a quick "Thank you," shook her hand, bolted out of the building and hopped inside his rental car. As he turned on the ignition, he took out his cell phone, pressed 3 on his speed dial and listened to the ringing, tapping impatiently on the dashboard.

"O'Brian," a bored voice said, a midst of typing in the background.

"Chloe, it's me," he said by way of greeting. "I received a phone call while I was in with Dr. Macer not ten minutes ago. The area code was from around here, but I don't have any contacts in the area."

Well, not except for one unwilling participant, he thought to himself, and that was going nowhere.

Being the brilliant analyst she was, Chloe immediately picked up on that. "Jack, what about Renee? She owns an apartment in Arlington, it's completely possible that…"

"Look, she didn't call me," Jack said, clenching his teeth. "She's made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with me."

"And you're okay with that?" Chloe asked skeptically. "I saw more than a few looks pass between you that day, _something_ was going on there."

Jack stayed silent except for his deep breathing, an exercise he often used whenever Chloe got a little hard to handle. "Chloe, nothing happened. Can you just get me that trace?"

"Hold on one second," she replied. Something beeped on her end, and then she said reluctantly, "Okay, Jack, I've got an address. It's 233 Palm Drive, Apartment 3B. Registered to Renee Annabeth Walker."

Jack ran a hand through his hair. "Damn it," he breathed, "I missed her call."

"What?"

"Nothing," he said hurriedly. "Look up any recent activity coming from her apartment."

After a few moments, Chloe was back on the line, and she wasn't happy. "Jack, first emergency responders received a 911 call from Renee's apartment."

Jack's heart nearly stopped, but he brushed away the feeling of dread. "Can you tell what kind of call it was?"

Chloe didn't break her silence.

"Chloe, what the hell happened?"

"I don't know," she said, exasperated. "Jack, Renee was fired from the FBI for torturing Alan Wilson. You know that, I know that, everyone with access to her file knows that. Pardon me if I think it's possible she got a little unhinged."

"Chloe, please tell me you're not saying…"

"That she did something crazy? I don't know, Jack," the analyst said, miffed. "Contrary to what you think, I don't have all the answers, and I can't get all of the answers. I can obtain most of them through various means, but you can't expect me to know everything that's going on. The paramedics plan on arriving at the scene in about ten minutes. They're still assessing everything."

"What's my ETA for her apartment, Chloe?"

"About…three minutes?" she estimated. "Look, Jack, the likelihood of you making it to the scene in time to prevent any sort of long-term damage from being a possibility is pretty slim…"

"Damn it, we're running out of time, Chloe! Stay on this and find out anything you can."

"Hastings is going to have my ass for this, Jack."

"Chloe, if you don't do this, Renee Walker could be lying on a metal table in a hospital morgue. Look up those records and get back to me."

"But…"

Jack pressed the END button on his phone, cutting off the conversation with Chloe before the inevitable dragging on of the conversation. As he stomped on the gas pedal and sped off to Renee's apartment, Jack tried to keep a clear mind, knowing that there was a very good chance that the woman he'd known for only a day was dead or dying, and knowing that he felt an incessant tugging, a need to stop whatever pain she was feeling. Only one word could really sum up what he felt in that moment.

"_Damnit!"_

Jack slammed the car door in a blind rage and stormed across the parking lot, eventually breaking into a run as his mind went haywire. All he could hear was Chloe's words echoing in his head: _911 call… torturing Alan Wilson… a little unhinged… Renee Walker's apartment… crazy… fired… dying._

As he kept thinking about what she said, her sentiments slowly grew into his panic. He opened the door to the lobby with a bang and, without bothering to let the receptionist know what the hell was going on, hopped in the closest elevator and aggressively pressed the button for floor seven. Then, his mind started to worry. _Damn it, should have used the stairs, this elevator is too slow, I'm being lazy while my… while she's dying…_

Right before Jack could potentially be dosed as clinically insane, the elevator doors opened on the seventh floor, and he ran as fast as he could, his licensed Glock at his side in case of an intruder situation. When he arrived at room 707, he pressed his ear against the door. All he heard was silence. When he looked through the peephole, he could see a general kitchen and living room. All particularly normal…except for the dark red puddle on the wood floor.

Jack burst in the door, gun in front of him, and proceeded to carefully clear the den and the foyer. When he reached the kitchen, he almost crumpled to the floor. There lay former FBI Agent Renee Walker, in shock, blood coming out of two precisely drawn slits on her forearms. He didn't care about dirtying himself as he knelt down next to her and shook her shoulders, almost as if it was a joke she was playing on him. "Renee, it's Jack," he whispered. "Wake up."

Nothing.

"Come on, Renee, open your eyes!"

He laid his head on her chest and searched for a heartbeat. When he found one, he released a breath that, up until now, he hadn't realized he was holding.

_Okay, best option is probably to wait…_

Suddenly, a confused moan strangled its way out of a throat, and it wasn't his.

"J-J-Jack?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Jack?" The choked whisper wormed its way out of Renee's throat as she stared at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

No. God, no. This hadn't been the way it was supposed to turn out, not by any of Jack's standards. He wasn't supposed to be living in New York. Renee wasn't supposed to torture Wilson and be let go by the Bureau. She wasn't supposed to live isolated from everyone else, barely breathing, if you asked him. She wasn't supposed to try to kill herself.

Oh, God, what had he done to her? It was all his fault. Everything was always his fault.

"Jack…"

The man suddenly bolted to attention. "I'm here, Renee," he said, pulling her into his arms. "I'm here."

"You're…alive…" she breathed, an astounded look on her face. "I didn't…believe it."

Suddenly, everything clicked back into perspective, and Jack couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he realize he had destroyed Renee Walker, simply by existing.

The virus should have killed him. Kim should never have undergone that surgery. It had caused too much pain for too many people.

"It's true," he whispered. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

When he didn't get a response, his heart began to quicken, and his throat tightened. Was she unconscious? Dead? Had he already lost her?

Then, he felt a faint tap on his forearm, and he turned towards the gaunt redhead in his arms as he released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Leave…me…here."

"What?" he said, disbelief lacing his words.

"I want to die," she said clearly. "Leave…me."

It was chilling enough seeing the open gashes on her wrists; to hear her actually voice her desire to die was even more so. The look in her eyes when she said that statement was so vulnerable, almost begging him to do something. Either to rescue her or to leave her be; he wasn't sure which it was she truly wanted. All he could do was whisper back the one thing that would keep him from losing her.

"No."

"You…are…an idiot," she mumbled. "Let…me…die."

"I'm not letting you go so easily, Renee," he snapped. "I already screwed up once, I'm not going to do it again." He shifted her so that her wrists lay against his chest and her head was on his shoulder. How the hell was it that she managed to stay so calm while she was dying? Dying, for God's sake, and she was already trying to call him out on what she perceived as another mistake caused by herself.

"Why?" she asked him.

"Why what?" he replied as he ran out of her apartment, leaving the door open.

"Why…save…me?"

Jack ran down two flights of stairs carefully, avoiding people when he could and shouting at them to move when he couldn't, all the while whispering comforting words in Renee's ear.

"Why, Jack?"

He looked into her eyes as he ran down the next staircases. How was he supposed to explain to her that every time he looked at her, something pulled at his heartstrings like in the days when he'd first been falling in love with Teri? How was he supposed to tell her that he couldn't lose her, though he'd only known her for a day? How was he supposed to reveal the unsavory truth to her?

"You deserve to live," he said simply as she burrowed her head softly into his shoulder, groaning in pain.

"Wrong," she whispered, tears flowing steadily down her cheeks. "First time."

The first time he'd ever been wrong while knowing her? She had to be delusional, something Jack didn't really want to believe. Still, that was the only explanation for someone besides his granddaughter believing that he hadn't really made any grandiose mistakes.

"You deserve to live more than I do," he elaborated as he reached the first floor. He ran across the lobby, both of them complete messes. "I've been where you are, and I'm not going to let you slip away."

"Please do…"

"That's not going to happen," he reaffirmed as he opened the door and ran to the ambulance conveniently waiting outside the building. A petite woman with wavy blonde hair and glasses ran around to help him lift Renee into the back of the truck.

"Will you be riding with us?" she asked, her tone clipped.

Not beating around the bush, he affirmed the woman's statement with an equally cold, "Yes." She actually seemed a little intimidated but let him on anyway, knowing there wasn't going to be any kind of argument with a man like him.

As she and two other EMTs started to fuss over Renee, plugging her into an IV and attending to her wounds, Jack squeezed her hand and kept his fingers wrapped around hers. He wasn't going to let her go again. As they sped across town, it vaguely occurred to him that he had at least two missed calls that he should probably return. Probably being the operative word. He wasn't going to do anything of the sort until he could be sure that Renee was okay.

As the ambulance pulled up to Arlington Hospital, Renee's eyelids fluttered open.

"Jack…"

He instantly leaned forward, trying to hear what she had to say.

"Jack…"

The EMTs shoved him out of the way as they lifted her gurney and rolled her out, running and shouting commands as Jack struggled to keep up with them. They quickly rolled her into a surgery room, and all Jack could hear were the words, "Stay with us, Renee!"

_Stay with me, Renee_, he quietly pleaded as he resigned himself to a bench outside the OR.

* * *

An hour later, his phone rang. "Bauer," he said, the distress evident in his voice.

"How's she doing?" Chloe asked.

"Not good," he replied, his voice cracking. "Read the report yourself."

He could hear her clicking away at her screen. "Oh," she said awkwardly. "Uh, I don't know what to say, Jack."

He sighed. "I don't think anyone knows what to say in this kind of situation, Chloe. As long as she wants to die, there's going to be a slimmer chance of keeping her alive."

"At least you got there in time?" she said, the statement suddenly coming out as a question. "Is there anything you'd like me to do for you?" she asked, concerned.

"Nothing that's in your control," he replied, exasperated.

"Jack, calm down," she said. "Renee's going to be okay."

"She's going to be okay?" An empty laugh escaped out of his throat. "Chloe, she tried to kill herself because she found out I was alive and didn't believe it. As long as I'm around, she's not going to be okay in any way, shape or form."

"And yet you can't leave her." It wasn't at all a question, not even rhetorical. It was a fact, as far as Chloe seemed to be concerned.

"I'll tell you what I told her; I'm not going to let her slip away."

She sighed. "Give me any updates when you can; I'll be in touch."

"Mrs. O'Brian, what are you doing?" a voice said in the distance.

She grunted. "Gotta go," she mumbled, and soon all Jack could hear on the other end was a dial tone.

* * *

A few minutes later, a doctor exited the OR and moved towards Jack. The federal agent looked at the man, alarmed, and instantly moved to stand.

"Are you the family of Ms. Walker?" the woman asked.

There wasn't any question in his mind as to what the question was. Though he couldn't say exactly how, Renee Walker would always be family to the Bauers, and nothing that happened would change a damn thing, no matter how bad the news would be.

"Yes," he said calmly, attempting to steel himself for the worst, "I am."

**A/N: Though I am very, very bad at posting (life has gotten in the way), feedback as well as suggestions for the plot line would be greatly appreciated in order to keep this story running smoothly and more consistently. The review button is about to die...**


	3. Chapter 3

"Sir, are you the family of Ms. Walker?" the first doctor asked calmly.

The same certainly could not be said for Jack Bauer. He ran a hand through his military cut hair, attempting to keep it from shaking uncontrollably. Suddenly, he was all too aware of the fact that all he had done to Renee could have been the key to her undoing. She could be lying on their operating table, chest unmoving, eyes closed, two red lines scribbled across her wrists, clean but hasty. He had failed her, and out of the uncharacteristically panicked thoughts running back and forth in his brain, that was the one that scared her the most. He… well, he couldn't quite articulate how he felt about her, but he knew that if she were to die, he'd have some kind of hole in his heart.

Then, he realized that he was supposed to answer the question. The younger doctor, a woman, looked at him with understanding. "Sir?" she asked, though he only knew this because he saw her mouth it; all his hearing had suddenly gone out the window. It wasn't much of a choice; he was strongly attached to Renee, though he couldn't explain how, and she had no one except him. Maybe he was the reason she was here, but he was also the reason she could _still_ be here. No choice whatsoever.

"Yes," he said calmly, blue green eyes boring into the male doctor's soul. A sharp intake of breath, quickened pulse. "I am." _In a manner of speaking, anyway. Please, dear God, let her be alive. You're a fighter, Renee. Survive this, please. Be you._

"Ms. Walker…" the doctor paused.

_Jesus Christ… I got there too late… Damn it. Damn, damn, damn…_

"…has been moved to the Intensive Care Unit for further observation. She's out of surgery," he clarified.

Jack's entire body relaxed in one solid drop as he released a tight breath he had no idea he'd been holding. Some of the squint lines around his eyes vanished, and his lips had gone from a tight, thin line to something slightly more calm.

_She's alive,_ he thought to himself, trying to wrap his brain around the idea. With all that blood, he'd been so sure…

"Can I visit her?"

"If you could wait about an hour, everything will be ready for visitors," said the woman. "But she's not going to be in any condition to talk to you. We had to induce a coma to allow her body to heal from the blood loss. Otherwise, her systems might have been completely upset by the trauma."

Jack nodded as if in deep thought. "How long will she have to stay?"

"As long as physical and psychological rehabilitation take," the male doctor said, as if implying, _Isn't it obvious that Renee is crazy and needs to be locked up?_

Anger started to surge through Jack's veins. He huffed in shock. "So," he said, "basically she's insane and a danger to himself, so you're keeping her locked here to make her go even more insane. I'm sure that'll go over really well with her. Good luck with that."

Before the doctors could respond, he'd already rounded the corner and collapsed on the chair in the waiting room; his knees had given out involuntarily, and he sighed as he realized that this might be affecting him more than was considered healthy, even for him. He'd been known to zone in and fixate on lost causes; maybe this was another case of that?

He immediately felt the urge to shoot his idiot self through the head. If Renee was just another passive woman he'd met, then he was a bureaucracy respecting, by the book agent who went through all the proper channels just for the sake of following the rules. There was something special, something different about Renee. He wanted to stick around to find out what it was.

Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out and looked at the caller ID. Then, knowing he couldn't get away with ignoring the caller, he sighed and picked up.

However, he couldn't even answer with a "Bauer," before being interrupted by his very worried, very wired daughter.

"Dad, where the hell have you been?" she asked. "I haven't been able to get a hold of you, I've been so worried. Stephen says I'm overreacting, but I don't think I'm overreacting in a situation like this…"

"Sweetheart, I'm at the hospital," he said calmly.

She gasped, "Oh, God. Daddy… how bad is it?"

He heard her sit down in her spot, and suddenly, he realized he may have implied something much worse for Kim.

"Honey, I'm not sick."

"You're…you're not?" she asked, obviously befuddled.

"No, Kim, I'm not," he replied. "You can let go of the stress ball Teri and I bought for you, it's not going to help anything."

She grumbled, but obliged, and Jack smiled at the fact that he knew his daughter so well.

"Kim, how much sleep did you get last night?"

"Dad, I got a perfectly normal amount of sleep, considering what time Teri wakes me up in the morning. It's just been a rough day in IT…"

"Kim…"

"What?"

"You're my daughter, and I know you well enough to know that you're lying through your teeth, hoping I won't notice and worry about you. Now, how much sleep did you get last night?"

She sighed, giving in to his interrogation. "None. How could I, when I didn't know if you were fully cured or if you had three hours to live? Daddy, if the virus had come back…"

"…but it didn't."

"Then why are you at the hospital still?"

"I'm at Arlington Hospital," he corrected her.

"May I ask _why_?" she groaned, starting to grow impatient with him. "Please don't tell me you got in a brawl with a terrorist on the way to your hotel…"

Though his daughter was entirely earnest in her plea, Jack couldn't help but give a little-half smile.

"I have an old friend in the ICU, I'm here to visit her."

"Oh, my God… it's Agent Walker, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, surprised. "How…"

"She left a message…"

"No, she didn't," he said sharply.

"…after you left, Dad," she finished. "I'll…I'll send you the recording."

"Thanks, sweetheart. You're getting really good at this tech work…God knows I can't understand half of it."

She smiled on her end, then sobered up as she patched it through. "Okay, here it is. I'm just warning you, Dad…it's not good. Why did she go…"

"Play the recording, honey," he said, promptly cutting her off.

Instead of smashing the phone to bits, like she was doing in her head, Kim calmly finished sending her father the recording of the phone call.

What he heard truly startled him and would, for days, run through his mind.

_"Jack…it's Renee," a barely audible voice whispered. A labored breath. "I'm sorry I…didn't get your…message. Things have been hard…over here. I just did something really…fucked up. I know I ignored you, but…I need you to help me. You're the only one…who seems to care. Please come…damn it, I'm calling your home phone…fat load of good that'll do..."_

_She made a sound that sounded like swallowing a sob. "Please, just…call an ambulance…I'm bleeding out quickly…two slit wrists…clean and very… very…severe…"_

The recording cut off there, and Jack sat frozen in his spot, staring at the phone.

"Daddy?" Kim ventured cautiously. "Are you okay?"

_You're the only one…the only one…the only one…_

No, Jack was definitely not okay. He'd done this to Renee, and there was only one way to solve it, only one way for her to heal. It didn't matter how he felt about the situation, how he felt about her. What really mattered was the fact that he was cursed. He destroyed everything he touched in some way, and he wasn't about to watch how his shortcomings had destroyed yet another undeserving person.

"I'll be home in a few hours, honey," he said, picking up his messenger back and dropping it onto his shoulder as he began to walk.

"Dad, I don't know if that's such a great idea…"

_Click._

Jack shut his phone and began the walk out to his car, suppressing the urge to remain where he had been, shutting out of his mind a beautiful face with gray-green eyes, a smattering of freckles, and a shade of fiery red hair that had only ever worked on the one competent FBI agent he'd met over the years…the one that somehow captured his heart after only twenty-four hours.

_A/N: Ah, the martyr complex: one of the most excruciating things about our favorite CTU agent. Even I'm annoyed about where the end of this chapter decided to go "off-book"..._

_Tell me (or the review button), what do you think about this chapter, and what would you like to see in the next chapter? I'll be waiting to hear your thoughts._


End file.
